


Everything You Have Pt 3

by Pineprin137



Series: Everything You Have Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Caring Jared Padalecki, Emetophile Jensen, Emetophilia, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Gross, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Jensen, Two-for-one, Vomiting, if you know what i mean, not the fun kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26416933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: Just because Jensen enjoys vomit, it doesn't mean he enjoys it every time. But really, who in their right mind could find pleasure in feeling their insides mutiny?
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: Everything You Have Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920319
Kudos: 10





	Everything You Have Pt 3

_ “Jared…?”  _

Jared looked up at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. 

They’d been watching the new episode of their favorite show when Jensen’s stomach started making unhappy noises and he’d excused himself about fifteen minutes ago, thinking maybe going to the bathroom would help. 

“Babe? You okay in there?” Jared asked, knocking on the bathroom door. 

_ “Not really… Can you, uh, get me a towel? We never put the clean ones away…”  _

“Sure, I’ll be right back. You need anything else?” 

_ “Yeah, um, can you grab my bag from the bedroom? I need to change my clothes.”  _

Oh, geez-- A wardrobe change was definitely not a good sign. 

After grabbing Jensen’s overnight bag from the bedroom and fishing out one of the newly washed, lavender-scented towels, Jared once again knocked on the door. This time though, he was permitted entry. 

“Oh, Jen…,” Jared said, walking over to his obviously sick boyfriend, “I didn’t realize you were feeling so bad.” 

“I’m more embarrassed than anything…” Jensen said, reaching to take the towel from Jared’s hands. He used it to clean off his hands and lap then placed it over the splatter of vomit on the linoleum floor. 

The gentle slouch to cover his mess was too much for Jensen’s still-upset stomach-- Orange-colored puke sprayed from his mouth, splashing onto the counter and one leg of Jared’s pant legs. 

“Oh--Shit!” Jared yelped, snatching up the bathroom trash can to hold in front of his boyfriend. He crouched down near the toilet so he could brush Jensen’s hair out of his face. “Jesus, babe…” 

“Ugggghhhh…” Jensen groaned, feeling his gut heat in preparation for another round of painful diarrhea. “You-- you should go.” 

“What?” Jared said, rearing back to stare at his boyfriend, “I’m not leaving you here, babe. You can barely keep your eyes open.” 

“Nggghhh...oh, God--Jare, I can’t--I’m sorry.” Jensen’s bowels began voiding noisily into the toilet bowl. He ducked his head toward the trash can to hide the blush on his cheeks. 

_ Just because Jensen enjoyed vomit didn’t mean he found pleasure in  _ all _ bodily fluids…  _

“ _ Oh, honey _ …” Jared murmured. He turned his head to give Jensen at least some semblance of privacy. 

With each cramp of his gut, Jensen leaned further over his lap, until his chest was practically touching his knees and Jared had to set the bin on the floor 

He  _ saw  _ Jensen heave before he heard the terrible retch that followed. 

It was rather impressive, in a disgusting kind of way, how forcefully the man he loved could eject partially digested lasagna and minestrone soup. It looked like a damn faucet had been turned on, a constant stream that exploded out of Jensen’s mouth as well as oozing from his nose. 

But all Jared could do was watch in horrific fascination and rub Jensen’s back while it continued. 

In the dark, dusty corner of his mind that housed all of his dirtiest thoughts, Jared wondered if Jensen would look the same from the other end.

_ “Oh, fu-- _ ” Another heave cut Jensen off and he clung to the backs of his legs as even more of their wonderful dinner poured out of him from three locations. His asshole stung, his throat felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper, and his nose was so clogged with vomit-y snot that he could barely breathe. 

There’s _ “Ooh, baby... yeah-- spew for me... Fuckin’ love it when you puke on me!”  _ and then, there’s _ “Oh, my God….I think I’m dying. Jesus Christ! Don’t be surprised if I puke up my organs in a second…” _ and Jensen- emetophile that he was- definitely preferred the first. 

He never enjoyed the feeling of his body staging mutiny against him--When every orifice hurt or ached because he’d unsuccessfully tried to turn himself inside out. 

It wasn’t even heaving anymore, just one big long contraction of his insides attempting to force everything he’d eaten in the last few hours out of him until he was so exhausted, so utterly spent, that he didn’t even have the energy to spit out the bitter residue coating his tongue or wipe his mouth off. 

Luckily, Jared seemed to sense Jensen’s distress and quickly aided him in cleaning up. He offered him water to rinse, holding the cup to his lips when Jensen couldn’t even manage to raise his head far enough off his lap. Using a good handful of toilet paper to wipe away the excess drips around Jensen’s mouth then place another handful against his nose so the extremely sick man could clear his nostrils. 

“Do you think you’re done for now?” Jared asked, his cheeks pink on Jensen’s behalf. 

Jensen was too tired to do more than nod. 

“Can you uh...wipe? Or would you rather just hop in the shower?” 

In lieu of a verbal response, Jensen reached over to the counter and pulled out one of the flushable wipes from the package. He had to hold onto Jared with one hand while he cleaned his tender asshole, but he managed. He flushed before he stood so Jared wouldn’t have to see the horror of the abused toilet bowl. 

Jared stood with him, his hands resting on Jensen’s hips as the sick man panted from exertion. When he was sure Jensen wouldn’t fall over, Jared crouched down to help him into the clean boxers he brought. The dirty bottoms were tossed into the bathtub along with Jensen’s socks and tee-shirt, Jared’s jeans, and the soiled towel. 

“Ready?” Jared asked his pale boyfriend. 

But Jensen shook his head. He could feel the pressure in his chest that meant he wasn’t done so he stepped up to the counter and leaned over the sink. 

He coughed twice before a small splash of rusty-colored vomit splashed into the sink. He panted over the basin, two long strings of sticky bile hanging from his lips. He coughed again, his stomach clenching emptily. 

Jared winced as Jensen got sick. It looked terribly painful, the way Jensen’s abs were convulsing rhythmically, his back arching with each dry heave. 

When Jensen finally stilled, Jared reached around him to turn on the faucet. He rinsed the vomit down the sink, praying it wouldn’t clog the pipes, then wet a washcloth so he could clean off Jensen’s face. 

“Now?” he asked. 

Jensen nodded. 

“Okay, then, let’s get you to bed,” Jared murmured into the crown of Jensen’s head before he helped him down the hall. 


End file.
